One of the most rewarding things about communicating with spirits is helping people to understand that love is eternal. When someone you love dies, your relationship with that person does not cease to exist. Instead, it is transformed from a physical relationship into a spiritual one. Love transcending physical death is one of many healing messages from the Other Side presented in my book, Never Letting Go.
What makes Never Letting Go different, and me as the author different, from other books by psychic mediums is that I bridge a gap between two different worlds. By day, I'm a criminal defense attorney, and by night, I'm a psychic medium who communicates with spirits. This seems to surprise a lot of people, who tend to think of law and mediumship as two opposing professions. I don't see it that way, since both jobs are about helping people. As a lawyer I solve legal problems, and as a medium I help people cope with loss. In Never Letting Go, I explain how I combine my skills as a lawyer and my abilities as a medium to help people heal from grief—with love and help from the Other Side.
Never Letting Go will help guide you on your journey through grief, inspire you with evidence for the existence of an Afterlife, teach you to recognize when your loved ones in spirit are near, and help you heal with loving messages of hope from the Other Side. Never Letting Go is a page-turner. It's the type of book that will keep you up at night because you won't want to put it down. It's based on real stories about real people who are coping with the loss of loved ones. However, the true heroes of Never Letting Go are spirits, because they are the ones who reach out from the Other Side with love to help in the healing process.
My ongoing work as "The Psychic Lawyer" is to present proof of the existence of the Afterlife through a practice known as Evidential Mediumship. This technique requires that the medium present specific facts and personality traits of the spirit to verify the spirit's identity. Never Letting Go shows how Evidential Mediumship provides such proof. This book takes the unnecessary fear out of spirit contact, and will show you how your loved ones never abandon you. Once you can recognize and understand the contact from a beloved spirit, you will see how therapeutic connecting with the Other Side can be.
Recently I conducted a reading for a police officer who must have been in his mid-fifties. During the connection, his mother's spirit presented me with the image of a bright, shiny red apple.
"Apples are important to you and your mother," I explained.
"I hate apples," the officer said abruptly.
I was stunned as much as I was wondering "who hates apples?" If it were broccoli or spinach, I might understand that—but apples? I thought everybody liked apples, don't they? I wanted to move on, but the image of the apple intensified.
"I'm sorry, but your mother is insistent about the apple," I conveyed. Suddenly the light of realization appeared in his eyes.
"I know what she means!" He said excitedly, "When I graduated the police academy I was twenty-two years old and—well—I looked pretty damn hot in my uniform. The ladies loved me!"
At first blush, it would be easy to think his comments were egocentric, but they weren't. He was hurting from the loss of his mother, and it was clear the apple imagery was significant, so I let him continue.
"Right after I graduated the police academy, Ma had a bunch of her friends over playing cards one afternoon. I just got home from my shift—I was in uniform, and Ma—she was a tiny little thing—grabbed me by the hand and walked me into the middle of these ladies—and she said"—he paused as he strained to contain his tears.
"Go on, it's okay," I reassured him.
"Ma said, 'this is my son—he's—the apple of my eye.'"
Even death itself couldn't separate a mother's love from her son.
Never Letting Go explains how my childhood was rather interesting, since not only can I see spirits, but both of my parents could as well. Mediumship is a trait that runs through both my mother's and father's sides of the family. Throughout the book, I share stories of my family's colorful psychic heritage. As I learned growing up, being psychic doesn't mean always being serious—sometimes contact with the Other Side can be humorous.
Humor can be healing, and it plays an important part in Never Letting Go. A sense of humor, like love itself, transcends death. Humor is often present during spirit contact. Since writing Never Letting Go, I conducted a reading for Edna, whose husband had died the previous year. Edna was a very emotional woman who sobbed continually during the hour-long reading. The spirit of her husband Herb presented me with a lot of specific details. However, no matter how many facts I conveyed, it just didn't seem to be enough for Edna.
"Are you sure it's really Herb?" she asked for at least the fiftieth time through the tissue she'd been clutching to wipe her tears.
"Yes, he's given you some pretty specific information," I conveyed.
"But how can you be sure it's really him?" she sobbed.
"Ask him a question, maybe that will help," I responded while silently asking Herb's spirit to help me out.
"I know—ask him—what did I give him for his last birthday—the year before he died?" she asked.
The reply from Herb was immediate, although I was hesitant to present it.
"A headache," I conveyed.
"WHAT?" Edna fixed her gaze on me. "WHY THAT SON OF A—"
"Ma'am!" I interjected. "I'm sorry but I have to give you what I get," I tried to explain, "and that was his response."
"N-n-o—you d-d-don't understand," Edna sobbed through the crumpled tissue, "I'm c-c-crying because—that—is—exactly—what he would s-s-say!"
I remained quiet so she could express her feelings.
"N-n-now I know it's h-h-him," she sobbed, "and that's j-j-just like him to make j-j-jokes while I'm here s-s-suffering!"
"I'm sorry—" I tried to apologize.
"No—it's okay," Edna said as her tears gave way to a slight giggle. "Oh Herb—you always teased me—you know how that ticked me off sometimes—but your little jokes always made me smile—that's one of the things I always loved about you."
Herb's love for Edna continued beyond the grave. He knew she was grieving, but he also knew his jokes could take the edge off her pain. Herb's spirit showed how someone who had a good sense of humor on this side of existence will still have a sense of humor on the Other Side. That is comforting; besides, would you really want a Heaven without humor?
No one wants to see someone they love suffer. Spirits are no different. Spirit communication lets us understand that just because a person died doesn't mean that person doesn't love and care about you. Simply stated, spirit contact is a conversation with someone you love.
In understanding spirit communication, it is necessary to recognize that death is transference of energy from the physical plane to the spiritual plane. Once a person dies physically, that person's spirit passes to the Other Side.
Consciousness, personality, and memories of that person remain intact after death, so that person's spirit is still capable of communicating with loved ones who remain behind. Spirits constantly reach out to a grieving loved one. In a way, a spirit is like a cosmic lifeguard coming to the rescue of a loved one drowning in a sea of sadness.
Never Letting Go explains how a spirit may choose various means of communication, such as visitations in dreams, catching a glimpse of that person, smelling a familiar scent, or letting the bereaved feel the presence of the spirit. It may be a more direct contact though, such as through a medium like me.
I often hear people scoff at spirit contact as "hocus pocus" basically because they don't understand it or refuse to accept it. We shouldn't be too harsh in judging these people, because spirit contact simply may not be within their realm of experience. Others require scientific validation for spirit communication. In defense of these skeptics, I have to agree that many things in the universe exist that cannot be perceived without the aid of advanced technology.
Then again, there are things known to exist that cannot be scientifically analyzed. The best example of this is love. We know love exists. Love brings a joy to life that makes it worth living, we spend our lives seeking love, and we are miserable without it. But love cannot be subjected to the scientific method, and it cannot be quantified or measured by any technological device. However, no one can say that it doesn't exist. Even skeptics experience and fall in love. Just because a machine hasn't been invented that can quantify love doesn't mean love doesn't exist.
What were the stars before the invention of the telescope? Since the dawn of time, they were just mysterious points of light in the sky at night. Using the telescope, Galileo brought forth a new understanding of the heavens and the Universe began to unfold in ways unimagined by humans. However, ideas and even discoveries which challenge conventional beliefs, like spirit communication, are often met with resistance. In Galileo's case, he was accused of heresy by the Catholic Church.
The cause and transmission of diseases were a complete mystery prior to the invention of the microscope. Before that time, doctors believed diseases were caused by sinister vapors generated at night, or bad blood that required an ill patient to be bled. The microscope revolutionized the understanding of disease by permitting doctors to see microscopic organisms that caused illness.
What if I said that every second of your life, you are surrounded by unseen energy loaded with vast amounts of information? You might laugh at me until you turned on a radio and come to the stark realization you are indeed surrounded by unseen energy loaded with information—radio waves! In the 1860s, barely one hundred and fifty years ago, radio waves were merely a theory. However in 1902, Marconi successfully conducted the first trans-Atlantic radio communication. Within the span of forty years what was theory had become reality—communication via invisible energy waves!
These are just a few examples of scientific devices that have proved the existence of things that cannot be perceived by our five physical senses, yet nevertheless exist. The mainstream beliefs of the day ridiculed many of these theories as fantasy, much the way some ridicule the existence of an Afterlife or spirit communication. Yet today, all of these discoveries are accepted as scientific fact.
Perhaps in the twenty-first-century, scientists may even develop a reliable device that can communicate with spirits. In fact, Thomas Edison theorized such a device could be created. In 1921 Edison wrote:
"If our personality survives, then it is strictly logical or scientific to assume that it retains memory, intellect, other faculties and knowledge that we acquire on this Earth. Therefore, if personality exists after what we call death, it is reasonable to conclude that those who leave the Earth would like to communicate with those they have left here."
To expound on Edison's comment, it is the eternal nature of love that is the most important message communicated from the Other Side. I also believe the device to contact the Other Side already exists—mediums like me. It is simply a matter of time before science can fully explain how some people are able to communicate with spirits.
While science still can't prove the existence of love, we all know how powerful the force of love is. Even death cannot kill love. This was reaffirmed for me during a mediumship demonstration I performed before a group during a convention. Jean, a member of the audience, had recently lost her daughter.
A female spirit immediately made her presence known to me. Jean confirmed from my description, this was indeed her daughter.
"She says she knows how devastated you are with her passing," I conveyed. Jean just looked at me with sad eyes.
"She wants you to know that she loves you—and always will," I conveyed. Jean continued to gaze at me.
"She says she knows you found a small piece of paper—it's something she wrote—you carry it with you—and it brings you comfort," I conveyed. With trembling hands, Jean reached into her purse and reverently pulled from it a small sheet of paper, three inches by five inches long.
"I found this in her bedroom on the nightstand two days after she died of cancer," Jean said softly. "It's a poem my daughter wrote. May I read it?"
"Please," I responded. Silence flooded the convention hall as everyone there leaned forward to hear.
Bravely, Jean stood. Gingerly holding this treasured memento she read:
"Perhaps God is a poet
Who writes with words of flesh and bone and leaf and flower,
Every hour of every day words pour out of the poet's heart.
And every word is beautiful and true and worth telling.
And when each poem is perfect
And there is no more which ought to be said,
The poet gently takes the words back into his heart
Where they are safe forever...
And then begins again."
When Jean finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the room.